


Smoke and Mirrors

by ItFeelsLikeHome



Series: The Robert Sugden Break Down [2]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fakes his death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Robert returns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 03:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19939432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItFeelsLikeHome/pseuds/ItFeelsLikeHome
Summary: Robert fakes his own death to everyone, even Aaron.  And then he returns to Aaron.  Thanks to NoahsAark on DS for the prompt.Opening the door, he looks over every inch of space that encapsulates his life with Robert.  He’s about to take up his previous position on the settee when his feet trample on the post.  It’s a white envelope with his name printed on and the word IMPORTANT printed in red ink.  He’s aware that it’s not a bill, but there’s something about it that’s mysterious - especially when it’s postmarked from France.He rips it open to find a return ticket to Paris, France.  Leaving for France next week to return in two weeks after that.  There is a note accompanying the ticket, which is short and to the point:Aaron,Fly out to Paris on the specified day and all will be explained when you get there.  Someone will be waiting for you in the Arrivals Lounge.It isn’t signed off, which adds to the intrigue and mystery.  Who would be contacting him from France?  And why would he want to be spending two weeks in a country where he can’t even speak the language?





	Smoke and Mirrors

Nothing matters anymore. There’s unwashed crockery in the sink; piles of dirty clothes that need washing in the laundry basket; and half eaten takeaway boxes and empty beer bottles on the coffee table. He should clean the house, but what’s the point? His mum came round a few days ago to see how he was, had spritzed the stale air with Febreze before helping Liv give the flat a quick tidy. But he can’t shake the overwhelming sadness that weighs his body down, making it difficult to focus on anything but the fact that Robert is gone. The constant pressure of sorrow makes simple tasks - like placing one foot in front of the other, listening to others speaking, and sometimes just getting out of bed and facing the world - difficult to do. 

His mum lets herself into the flat again, walks over to where he is slumped on the settee and grabs the quilt that is covering his face. She pulls it off him, so that the bright lights make his eyes water. “You need to get up. The bills won’t pay themselves. Ellis said the phone has been off the hook with business coming your way.”

He turns his lips into a frown and shrugs his shoulders. “It won’t bring Robert back.”

She budges his legs up with her body before sitting down. “No it won’t, love. Nothing will. But he wouldn’t want to see you like this. He’d tell you you stink and need a shower.”

“If he could tell me those things, I wouldn’t be here like this.”

“No, you wouldn’t. But Ellis can’t cope on his own. You need to go to work and you need to take your mind off it.”

“Yeah, cos lumping around a lot of scrap is really going to take my mind off the fact that my husband is dead.” Saying the words makes it final, and it can never be final. Robert was going to love him for the rest of his life. They were going to grow old together. Nothing will ever erase the image from his brain of Robert’s car exploding, of realising that all his hopes and dreams died in that moment, too. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Just go.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you have a shower and go to work.”

She sits there staring at him, waiting for him to do something. So he does the only thing he can. He gets up, rifles around for his shoes and his keys and heads out of the door. 

The walk to the scrapyard is silent and slow. At one point Aaron stops because the agony is overwhelming. He wants to rip open his chest and let it all out, but he can’t. Instead a low, guttural roar spills forth from his mouth. It doesn’t ease the pain, doesn’t even come close to slicing it in half, so he punches the brick wall. His knuckles smart before blood pours from the open skin. 

His mum wasn’t lying when she said there were loads of people that wanted Holey Scrap’s business, but he hasn’t got it in him to return their calls. Grabbing a crowbar, he pummels the end into a car ready to be scrapped. Channels all his anger, frustration and grief into every whack of the car until his eyesight becomes watery and the crowbar is stopped midway in the air before his next hit. 

“Aaron, man. You need to go home. You can’t be here like this.” Ellis takes it off him before resting it on the gravel. 

He can’t be anywhere, that’s obvious. Because wherever he is, it’s not where Robert is. They didn’t even have a body to bury. But Aaron knows he’s up there looking down on him. 

Retracing his steps, he heads back to the Mill, not even bothering answering Jimmy’s annoying queries about how he is. How the fuck does Jimmy think he’ll be feeling? 

Opening the door, he looks over every inch of space that encapsulates his life with Robert. He’s about to take up his previous position on the settee when his feet trample on the post. It’s a white envelope with his name printed on and the word IMPORTANT printed in red ink. He’s aware that it’s not a bill, but there’s something about it that’s mysterious - especially when it’s postmarked from France. 

He rips it open to find a return ticket to Paris, France. Leaving for France next week to return in two weeks after that. There is a note accompanying the ticket, which is short and to the point: 

_Aaron,  
Fly out to Paris on the specified day and all will be explained when you get there. Someone will be waiting for you in the Arrivals Lounge. _

It isn’t signed off, which adds to the intrigue and mystery. Who would be contacting him from France? And why would he want to be spending two weeks in a country where he can’t even speak the language? 

Over the next few days he contemplates going, of just escaping and running away from everything that links him to Robert. The constant reminders are arduous when every memory results in him crying or staring into space wishing that this was all a nightmare. But he knows that wherever he is, his husband will always be in his heart. He doesn’t have to be in Emmerdale to think about Robert. 

His mother’s concern is obvious when he tells her his plans. “You shouldn’t be on your own at a time like this. Robert would be worried about you.”

“Stop pecking my head in. I’m going. End of.”

***

When he steps foot onto French soil, he follows the crowd like a mindless lemming, picking up his luggage before following the brightly lit signs to the arrival lounge. Scanning around the room, he sees the white placard with the black writing. The words Mr Sugden-Dingle force out a sob from his chest. He walks over to the driver, who is in jeans and a duffle coat, nods and follows him to the taxi in the car park. 

Aaron refuses to talk, doesn’t answer any questions and doesn’t give any information. His French leaves a lot to be desired but even if he could speak the language, he wouldn’t want to talk. The choice of remaining silent is the only way he can gain control of his life. He half wishes he was being taken somewhere to be killed then at least he could be with Robert again. No blades have sliced his skin in the two months since Robert’s death, simply because no amount of pain he could subject his body to is going to surpass the agony he’s already feeling. 

He should be frightened when the taxi pulls up in the middle of the countryside outside a cottage. But the cottage looks cosy and friendly amongst the fallen snow, a picture that could be used on a Christmas card. Blue shutters surround the white doors and windows that are dusted with snow. An oak tree stands at the side of the house - its branches bare and lonely. Aaron can imagine how they feel as they jagger out from the wide tree trunk. There’s a gravelled terrace outside the front door with four chairs surrounding a wooden table. The surrounding area looks desolate and cold, but light burns in one of the windows. Aaron pulls his winter coat tightly around his body and feels the harsh wind pinch his skin. 

The driver takes his luggage out of the boot and leaves him to knock on the front door. It drives away before anyone answers. 

The door opens and Aaron’s breath catches in his throat. All he can do is watch Robert staring at him, pushes away the thought that this is a dream and he’s still asleep on the settee back at the Mill, and lunges at Robert’s lips, stumbling into the cottage. They always had the power to create a vortex, one that Aaron could never stay away from, and right now he has to feel them against his own. It’s desperate and clingy with Aaron’s hands grasping for Robert’s arms and the material of his top. The ice melts throughout his body, as every contact his skin is making with Robert’s is producing an inferno. He gives in to it all, as he pushes Robert against the wall, but doubt sets in and he has to walk away. 

With one hand on a hip, and the other in his hair, he verbalises his feelings and says, “This can’t be right. I must be dreaming or blacked out. You’re dead. Your car blew up.”

Robert’s hand pulls on Aaron, spinning him around until he’s looking deep into his eyes. “I’m not dead. I’m right here.” He guides Aaron’s hand up over his chest, to the soft thumping of his heart. “Feel it. I’m not dead.” 

Aaron looks down at their hands, focuses on the soft rise and fall of Robert’s chest and the beat of his husband’s heart. “You left me convinced that you were dead all this time. Why? Why would you do that to me? To us?” He wipes away the tears with the back of a hand before joining it with Robert’s again. 

Then it’s Robert’s turn to wipe away Aaron’s tears with the pads of his fingers. “It wasn’t my choice, Aaron. If it had been up to me, I would have had you here with me the same day I left. But this is all witness protection. They wouldn’t let me tell you where I was.”

Aaron frowns. “Witness protection? From Lee?”

“The car and the gun were all Lee trying to kill me because of that stupid recording I had where he admitted to raping Vic.”

“But why contact me now?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve missed you and I love you. And we’re still married.” He pauses before speaking again. “And in two weeks time, they said I could go back to my old life. They have him locked up. I just couldn’t wait another two weeks to see you.”

Aaron can see the sincerity in every corner of his husband’s face, feel the love in the softness of his voice. “So you’ve come back to me?”

“I never really went away.”

“Don’t leave me again. I don’t work well without you.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Their fingers interweave as Robert closes the front door and takes them into the living room with a roaring fire and a table set out for two to eat. 

They manage to eat the appetising meal Robert has prepared for them with one hand, unwilling to let their husband go with the other. Every time Robert looks at him with love, Aaron has to convince himself that this is real by pulling at the skin around his wrist and squeezing so hard it leaves his skin white. But then, as they are on the floor by the fire, Robert sitting astride him, their clothes quickly discarded earlier, his erection pulsing against Robert’s prostate gland, Aaron knows that this is all real. Because having Robert back in his life, alive and loving him, is like living life in monochrome to suddenly changing and having everything in fantastic, vibrant technicolour. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback or comments are greatly appreciated. :-)


End file.
